


The Grand Plan

by SiladhielLithvirax



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dark, M/M, Manipulation, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Soulmark AU, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiladhielLithvirax/pseuds/SiladhielLithvirax
Summary: A Soulmark was never part of the plan.A Soulmark was something for other people.A Soulmark meant there were chains on his heart, and chains were meant to be broken.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Sheev Palpatine
Comments: 24
Kudos: 110
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	The Grand Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kj_feybarn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kj_feybarn/gifts).



> This was really fun and interesting, I really hope you enjoy it. Twisting some fun things together to give a taste of something hopefully new very dark. You're an amazing writer and I adore everything you've created, so I hope this ticks some boxes for you!

Soulmarks were not terribly common in the wider galaxy. They were not rare per se, but they were similar to encountering a species with hair. It was fascinating for those who did not have or understand the feature but seen often enough in the galaxy it loses its luster after a while.  
  
Sheev was born with one of these soulmarks. 

His mother rejoiced, and his father toasted that one of their children had a match that would guarantee them happiness and security

The toasting and happiness at Sheev’s luck was nice, and something to aspire to as he ran through the estate as a youngling, but the luster wore off, the rose-colored glasses were lost as he grew more, learned more, experienced more in his tiny family manse.  
  
His mother and father had never understood his ambitions and his siblings had never seen beyond the grounds of their home in the Lake Country of Naboo. So while he was the only one of his family to ever manifest a soulmark, it grew from a fascination to a delineation as he became more aware of the differences between him and his family.  
  
The mark flowed from the bottom of his neck down between his shoulder blades ending mid-back. A Lichtenberg array of light gray starting as a downward-facing star.  
  
Sheev grew to hate it. 

He started as all young children did. Learning at his mother and father’s knee the ins and outs of their world, the towering halls and beautiful gardens that made up their domain outside Theed. His mother’s stories, his father’s wishes for him to find the complement of his soul was all young Sheev thought of, reaching a hand around his neck to brush the start of the star and wonder.  
  
Soon enough that naivety turned sour. The idea there was someone out there who lived up to his parent’s ideal grated. There was so much more of the galaxy than either Heru or Lonah Palpatine thought and how could their tales of perfect Naboo nuptials every compare to the expanse that was Sheev’s mind, his ambition.  
  
Now it was nothing more than a brand. Nothing more than the mark on his back of someone who could curtail him like his father’s feeble vision and competence had curtailed the Palpatine name. 

His mother experienced life in a microcosm of power. The galaxy was the grounds of the estate and the ultimate will was the word of his father as he pranced about. It ground at Sheev. It burned somewhere deep in his chest when he saw the holo news and read between the lines of bland press releases to see the stories of power and influence hidden underneath on worlds such as Coruscant and Chandrila. 

Hego Damask was aware of it. Upon meeting the Muun Sheev had, for a moment, believed the older man was the match to his mark. 

Sheev had a hope that the burning star or the Lichtenburg lines trailing down his back would be a direct representation of Damask. Their sharp lines and jagged edges represented the thoughts and feelings of someone who finally saw the galaxy exactly as he did.  
  
But Damask had no such mark, no such brand that showed his vision was actually the match of Sheev’s and oh, how Sheev sometimes wished it wasn’t so. 

He spent years learning under Damask, learning about the intricacies and the power afforded him by his sensitivity to the Force. He pledged himself to the Muun as an apprentice and learned of the corruption, the dark tendrils snaking through the galaxy he could bend to his will. Finally, something that matched the ambition burning in his chest.  
  
This all occurred while paying lip service to the small-minded politicians on Naboo and quietly amassing power of a more political nature to further those tendrils. Sheev and Damask had a plan. A gambit to achieve all that their Sith forefathers had dreamed, plunging the galaxy into darkness and bringing power only to those worthy. Those strong enough, smart enough to grab it for themselves.  
  


* * *

It was during those years of petty politics and planning that Sheev first came across the ritual.  
  
It was in a book from one of his Master’s libraries. A slim volume that pulsed with the same Dark Side corruption as the rest of the collection, a dark blue cover hiding what seemed at first to be the ramblings of yet another pre-Banite Sith. It was working through the excursive text that a small notation caught Sheev’s interest.  
  
It was the mention of a sacrifice ritual.  
  
Sacrifice was a step many Sith had taken in the past, killing their lovers or partners or family in an attempt to free themselves from the ruins of their past life in the Light. But this mention was different, it twinged something in Sheev’s chest when he read it back. 

_By breaking the chains and links of ink, one can reach further and lose their soulbound shackle._ _  
_ _  
_ There it was. The final tie Sheev had from fully devoting himself to the Grand Plan Damask had introduced him to. Something to break the ink that lay on his spine and tied him to the other half of his soul.  
  
Something that finally shed those last vestiges of his mother and father’s wish for Sheev’s future. Something that turned the brand on his skin from chains to the key he needed for freedom. 

* * *

  
It was years later that he finally got his hands on the Holocron and texts that outlined the full ritual. He was no longer just a simple Apprentice to Damask, more a partner as they moved sentients like chess pieces on the galactic board they had carefully arranged. The Grand Plan was inching ever closer to its culmination. 

There was so much potential in what they were doing. So many threads connecting and intertwining. It made Sheev shiver in anticipation just thinking of all the power and legacy he might have. Damask was still of the delusion he would be a partner in this endeavor, but Sheev, for all he’d scoffed at his father's petty political truisms, had internalized one a very long time ago.  
  
Never trust anyone who isn’t a Palpatine.  
  
The chessboard was so well placed, so well crafted and manipulated that Sheev had to stop himself from triple checking every thread and planet that would eventually fold into his pocket. Paranoia was a fickle mistress, and the only one Sheev allowed himself during the stressful negotiations and manipulations occurring across the galaxy at his urging. 

For all that the work was being done in the shadows, Sheev knew he had enemies.  
  
Spurned businessmen, petty planetary leaders, those few who gleaned just a taste of the plan and failed to see the gambit but held Sheev, now Darth Sidious, as a shadowy individual who was taking everything from them.  
  
So he played it safe on Naboo and in the public eye. Never entertaining the idea of a wife or husband, nothing that would make others look for a weakness to be exploited. He maintained the trivial corruption all politicians utilized, but he made sure, no matter what, no one would ever see his Mark.  
  
The mark was the one thing that could derail everything he and Damask were currently working toward, the one thing that could destabilize the entire board. 

Someone with a hold over him. 

It was why Sheev was so eager to finally have the components and instructions for his Sacrifice Ritual.  
  
A chance to be rid of the mark, a chance to not let it define his life like it has for so many others Marked in the galaxy. He would be free, he would have no chains on him, whether they be Force given or not.

The ingredients had been as hard to find as the instructions themselves. Finding a youngling on an outer rim world with both a mark of their own and sensitivity of the force for the offering was hard enough, but then finding a clear kyber to bind his own mark and the exact Sith glyphs and words needed for the recitation and layout of the ritual? 

There was a reason Sheev had decided to go through with this ritual then spent almost a year finally getting it together.

It was with that thought Sheev gave one last look over the mirror in the corner of the Temple he was secluded in. The trailing lines and sharp points etched into his back were just visible under the blood-painted mixture applied over them.  
  
After this, the brand would be gone forever. 

Korriban was a nexus of the dark side, but the shielding he had needed to put up was important for the success of the ritual. There could be no interruptions from unsettled Sith ghosts on this night. 

He would open himself up to the Cosmic and Living force in as much as he could handle and rip out the part of himself that connected to another being in the galaxy. 

He would have no chains on himself. There would be no person in the entire galaxy that could drag him down after this ritual went through. His mother, were she alive and had knowledge of his plans would weep, but Sheev no longer ascribed to her narrow view of the galaxy and the things that matter in it. 

He had plans. He had an Empire to build. His Mark could have no place in it for now. 

Sheev takes a deep breath and runs a critical eye over the dark red markings on the altar and begins his chant. 

_And the Force shall set me free_. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The planet of Stewjon was small. Inconsequentially located in the Ag Circuit just outside the purview of Salliche, it was little more than one among many farming worlds that served the greater interests in the galaxy. 

The planet was small, simple farmers and spacers colonizing the world and generally keeping to themselves as quiet members of the Republic. It sat just in the center of a cluster of other Agri-worlds and was only visited by supply ships and trading vessels ferrying the dearth of agricultural products across the galaxy.  
  
Tourists visited for the single attraction worth anything on the planet, a convergence of 5 rivers leading to a somewhat beautiful waterfall.

Stewjon was nothing special. What was special on Stewjon was a young boy named Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

The Jedi were informed of the child at the normal 6-month check-up when Republic registered children were tested for their force sensitivity. Obi-Wan was not high on the list of sensitivity, but neither was he low. Just placed right in the middle, rather like how Stewjon was right in the middle of plenty of other worlds as well. 

The truly special thing about one Obi-Wan Kenobi was the mark on his back. A star leading to the Lichtenberg fractal, trailing from the top of his spine to halfway down his back. It was adorable as a child, so small and delicate it was mistaken for a strange vein pattern when the child was firstborn. 

Soon enough however the truly special thing about the mark was apparent. 

It was not the gray of a soulmate not yet found. Nor was it the black or white of a soulmate found or passed on. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Soulmark was a dark blood red. 

His parents attributed it to a curiosity stemming from the species of their son’s soulmate. Maybe whatever species their son’s match has different color meanings than the human variant colors. 

Their son was going to be a Jedi after all. He’d meet any number of species and sentients traveling across the galaxy. 

So the young family that was so proud of their young baby for having a soulmate already, gave their son to the Jedi representative and said goodbye to Obi-Wan Kenobi forever. 

* * *

  
  
  


Growing up in the creche gave Obi-Wan a view as expansive as the speeder lanes of Coruscant. He met Quarrens, Zeltrons, Togruta, Mon Calamari, species after species. His question after an introduction was always the same. 

Do they have special Soulmark traditions for their culture? 

The answers varied, and were always interesting, the range and breadth of importance or disregard each culture placed on the somewhat rare marks that appeared on a child’s skin. Yet there was never anything satisfying that Obi-Wan learned.  
  
It was a fruitless search that the youngling was pursuing. The Masters were as curious as ever about the strange mark and stranger color Obi-Wan Kenobi’s star and lines were. 

Eventually, the questions from the inquisitive initiate wound down, and more thought was given to the Jedi code and the Jedi teachings, rather than something that could be seen as attachment. 

Obi-Wan hid his Mark. perfectly pressed robes, tabards overlaying just so to hide the blood-red Mark on his neck and doing everything in his power to rise above that which set him apart. That which attached him to another being. 

He struggled, he was angry, he was too passionate, too uncontrolled, too much for the crechemasters and the Masters who came to see and watch. Obi-Wan stood by as they chose his classmates, always feeling the joy and the happiness of his friends through the Force as they moved into their new master’s quarters. 

Eventually, he was left. He was shipped away, till his last possible chance, the last possible Master, finally chose him. 

What followed was years of wrenching choices and a constant struggle within Obi-Wan. Leaving the Order to help the Young, returning to the Temple only to feign happiness for Bant at Qui-Gon’s attention. Dueling Bruck, and watching helpless, as he fell to his death. Protecting Satine in a world of danger and intrigue, then thinking of the Mark on his back and turning away from her advances. 

Obi-Wan grew to learn about the galaxy. All of the dark corners and dangerous alleys that made up the power bases for any such administration that claimed power. 

The Republic was not the paragon of virtue and efficiency he had learned in the bright Temple halls, but a thin veneer over how the everyday populace of planets lived their lives. 

There was corruption and darkness in the lightest of places, he found. The streets of Aldera City, the balconies of Hanna City, even the halls of Pantora. 

Darkness hidden behind the light was not all he found however, there were sparks of light even in the worst places as well. The galaxy was never one or the other, the threads of the Cosmic Force pinging his attention whenever it could to show the possibilities and choices inherent in each system he was dragged across in the shadow of Qui-Gon Jinn. 

It was learning by experience more than anything, the expansive galaxy laid out under his feet. Diplomatic mission here, peace-keeping there, the intricacies of politics and tribal disputes ratcheting up to such instances as the Stark Hyperspace War. 

Obi-Wan learned, and he watched, and he followed the steps laid out for him. It didn’t matter whether those steps were by the Force, or following Master Jinn, Obi-Wan saw. 

* * *

  
  


Sheev was annoyed. That was not an altogether surprising occurrence, because for these last few years he’d been ensconced on Coruscant as the Senator from Naboo and nothing was more annoying than some of the irritating life forms who thought themselves powerful in the halls of 500 Republica. 

This specific annoyance stemmed from the Trade Federation. Why they thought it a good idea to attempt an assassination of the Jedi negotiating team before even attempting to convince them was idiotic, and letting the queen escape was inexcusable. 

His apprentice would get to the bottom of this and get the invasion back on track. It was vitally important Sheev be perfectly placed to gain the majority and become Supreme Chancellor no matter the outcome. The Grand Plan relied on it. 

Speaking of the Grand Plan, Sheev eyed the Muun lounging on his couch in the Senate office of the Naboo. 

Damask was old, and looking older still from the failed terrorist attack that had disfigured him so many years earlier. 

“Sidious, your pawns leave much to be desired in this avenue.” came the rasp from Damask. 

Sheev leaned back in his chair and tossed back the hood he had used in the holo transmission, 

“They are trying, but their use is rather short, no matter the outcome we shall achieve our goals this term.” 

“If you say so, Sidious.” Damask intoned while shifting his focus to the datapad in his hand. The Muun’s constant experiments and data mining was annoying, but soon enough he would be gone. Sheev would defeat the man no matter the outcome of this silly Federation maneuvering and then he would be free to pursue the Grand Plan as it was meant to, with one single head of the Empire to lead it. 

* * *

  
  
  


Obi-Wan’s eyes remained fixed on his datapad as Anakin rustled around him. His padawan would figure out it was better to ask at some point.  
  
The boy was fidgeting, the mouse droid being broken apart and reconstructed practically in time with Anakin’s huffs of breath and eyes darting up to look at Obi-Wan. 

Finally, Anakin seemed to gather up his courage from somewhere as he straightened his back and put the sad little droid back into his pocket. 

“Do Jedi have Soulmarks?” 

Obi-Wan tensed, that was about the last question he had expected his young padawan to surprise him with this afternoon. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and placed the pad onto the table in front of him. 

Something occurred quite quickly to Obi-Wan and he leaned forward and stared into Anakin’s eyes as he bit out, 

“Do you have a Soulmark Anakin?” 

“What? No! I mean- no, I don’t.” Thank all the little gods. Teaching Anakin was a pleasure, but it was trying as well, and a Mark would further complicate tthe careful balance of attachments Obi-Wan wasn't yet sure Anakin grasped. He gentled his smile for the now 13 year old boy and made sure to emanate nothing but gentle support and calm through the training bond. 

“Okay. That’s, well, that’s perfectly fine Padawan, but what brought this subject about?” 

Anakin was back to fidgeting in his seat, one of his hands no doubt twisting the droid in the pocket of his robe. Obi-Wan knew his padawan after 3 years of training him and just waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. 

“We were in the Cultures and Diplomacy class and they were talking about Grezda, y’know? The ruling council is always made up of 6 people that have SoulMarks whether they have their partner or not.”

“That is very true, Grezda is an interesting example of a culture with an emphasis on the phenomena.” 

“But then nobody said anything! A partner is an attachment, right? And those are bad! But everyone was talking about the balance and how it was wizard, and I don’t get it!” Oh dear. the attachment lesson yet again. Obi-Wan wished he was surprised by the direction of the boy's thoughts. 

By the end of his outburst Anakin was breathing harshly and staring at anything but Obi-Wan. He probably thought he'd be reprimanded for asking questions again. Whoever raised this boy had some serious explaining to do if Obi-Wan was ever on Coruscant. 

Obi-Wan had also thought questions regarding attachments would have been eased since the last time they went over it when Anakin switched out of the initiate courses and into the padawan courses. Apparently, there was yet more clarifications to cover here. 

Obi-Wan leaned over and laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, reaching out through their bond to bring a little bit more of calm to the tumultuous emotions swirling in the young boy. 

“Anakin, to be Marked is a gift from the Force, no Jedi would begrudge the connection bound in the Force itself. There have been instances in the past of Jedi having Marks and balancing that attachment with their greater attachment to the Order and the Force. Jedi do not eschew that which connects us to our fellow beings, we celebrate that connection and work to ensure none of our connections outweigh our adherence to the Will of the Force. Gredza is a culture different from ours, and as Jedi, we respect all other traditions and cultures with compassion for those who practice.”

The calm Obi-Wan was emanating and the gentle grip he had on Anakin’s shoulder seemed to do the trick as the boy had calmed down by the time Obi-Wan was done with his explanation, but the furrow between Anakin’s eyes betrayed no possibility of Obi-Wan going back to his research tonight. 

“Are there Jedi with Marks now?” 

Obi-Wan released his padawan’s shoulder and leaned back further in his seat, reaching for the no doubt cold cup of tea to his left,

“ Yes, you know of Master Tiin on the Council, and there is Master Leydis who is Marked and bound to their soulmate as well. And well, there’s me.” 

Anakin’s eyes were trained on him and wide as saucers then, 

“You?” 

“Yes Anakin, I have a Soulmark as well. I have yet to meet the other person who may match it, but when that happens I must accept that if they were truly my match, they would respect my wishes and my duty just as I do.” 

Obi-Wan set down the now empty cup of tea and watched as Anakin tried desperately to subtly look at every inch of visible skin over Obi-Wan’s body while still sitting there, fidgeting.  
  
Hiding a small smile at his adorable little padawan, Obi-Wan reached down to start undoing the belt and obi. Anakin would never be content with just the awareness of the Mark, and while Obi-Wan still hated to bare it to other people, He could share it with the bright little supernova that was his student. 

Standing up and finally shedding the layers that made up his tabards Obi-Wan turned and showed the blood-red Mark across his back to the boy. 

A hitched breath was all he heard before he felt the lightest of pressure along one of the trailing lines. 

“Go on, you can touch it, it’s just like a tattoo, nothing special.” 

Small little fingers traced one of the lines before Anakin sat back down and breathed out, 

“Wizard...” 

Obi-Wan laughed as he gathered his robes back into his hands and spun to face the child he was growing more enamored of every day, his little brother. 

Smiling at the still awed expression, Obi-Wan made a quick calculation and started to get his layers back on properly. 

“How about we go out and grab some Hoth Cream and m,arket food tonight hmm?” 

“Oh yeah! Wizard!!” 

The transition from Tatooine to Temple was difficult, and there were always stumbling blocks cropping up at the strangest moments, but Obi-Wan would never trade the moments like this, just genuine happiness from learning something new, with anything. 

  
  


* * *

It was years later before the knowledge of Obi-Wan's Mark came back to being a topic of discussion. 

The layers of fabric that had long protected his back was supplemented this time by plastoid plates and new blaster resistance, but that meant nothing when Helix was glaring at him to undress so he could clear him from the medbay aboard the Negotiator. 

It was really only his shoulder that was the issue, most of the bolt had dispersed on the pauldron, but enough had caught the shoulder blade there was a scorch mark on the robes and Helix wasn’t taking any chances today. 

Obi-Wan sighed as he moved to undo the straps of his armour. Never had he thought the Jedi would go to war, but the Galaxy was getting darker each day and the only sparks of light he could now see stemmed mostly from the brilliant lights contained in each trooper as they earned their name and their colors. 

Lifting off the cuirass twinged the shoulder and Obi-Wan fought to conceal the wince from the sharp eyes of the medic. 

The way Helix just frowned further proved he was not as successful as he hoped. 

Unwrapping from the tabards, Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as he waited for the inevitable. 

There was a moment of hesitation, a sharp twist in the Force, then the bacta was being placed on the wound and Helix was back to his steady calm presence. 

“Some brothers had marks like these back on Kamino.” 

Obi-Wan waited with steady breathing as Helix continued to work. He’d found stories of Kamino to be something precious and closely guarded by the troopers, if Helix felt he needed to hear this one it was better to wait for him to share it that jump on the information. 

“They just appeared, some of them, and then the next day the brother was gone.” 

The Force was still and silent as Helix relayed this piece of news to Obi-Wan. His own heart ached at the further confirmation of the terrible conditions endured on Kamino. 

“You and your brothers never deserved that place. I hope you know that.” 

The sound of bandages stopped for a moment, then there was a sigh as Helix moved to continue the application. 

“I know General, and I hope whoever matches your Mark deserves you.” 

Obi-Wan fell silent at this. How could whoever held his Mark ever accept him after the things he’d done in the name of this war? There was darkness all over the galaxy and as much as he clung to the Light, gripped it with both hands, all that seemed to spread was the Dark. 

“Thank you, Helix.” 

  
  


* * *

Sheev sighed internally as he listened to another of Anakin’s rants about the Jedi Order and the thinly veiled allusions to his wife. 

“-can’t believe they sent her there, they know I’m better with the new aethersprite systems but no, we were both in the holo-call and-” 

If the Knight had needed him to mold his opinions about the Council then that would be one thing, but years upon years of grooming was paying off in dividends when Sheev glanced at the tendrils of Darkness twining around the supernova presence of the Chosen One. 

“My dear boy, your presence on the front has been such a boon for the Republic, especially when you’re leading the fighter battles, anyone can see that. The Jedi surely recognize your contributions there?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! they just got annoyed I spoke out of turn in the call and so they were punishing me-” 

Sheev nodded his head along as he sipped from the glass of juice he kept around for Skywalker’s visits. The Knight apparently didn’t enjoy tea and all of Sheev’s work as a diligent caretaker of the Republic would be suspect if he started drinking heavily at this hour of the morning. Sith hells, he would kill for a glass of Corellian Brandy right about now. 

“It sounds like the Jedi are not conducting this war as you would wish them to, my boy. They should value the input of such a decorated General as yourself.” Sheev placated with a furrowed brow.  
  
Skywalker had mostly worn himself out from the venting he always started off these visits with, which meant it was time to plant a few more seeds and fan the flames. 

“How you balance your fighting while leading one of the top legions in this war has been a source of much acclaim here on Coruscant, Ani.” 

Skywalker puffed up a bit before falling into the seat across the desk, huffing and reaching for his own glass of juice before turning back and gesticulating wildly, 

“I’ve heard some of the rumors floating around the Senate. They’re terrible!” 

Now that was curious. Depending on the rumors, this could turn out to be a very good visit.  
  
“Oh dear, I shudder to think of the rumors you might have heard, my boy. The Senate has turned into such a pit of gossip lately,” 

“Yeah! There was this one Senator who was claiming she was with Obi-Wan! Like Mr. Perfect Jedi would even do that, not to mention his Mark.” Skywalker was staring out the window with a sneer on his face while Sheev considered the information shockingly dropped right in his lap. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi has a soulmate. 

“Unfortunately not everyone understands the duty the Jedi selflessly undertake for the sake of the Republic, my boy. Their sacrifice is underappreciated among the populace.” Sheev hums and pretends to look about the office for a moment, letting his eyes land on the chrono as he feigns a slight jump, 

“Dear me! Oh, Ani, I hate to cut our time short but you know with everything, there are just so many-”

“Don’t worry, Chancellor. I get it, I should go see Pa-Senator Amidala.” 

“Yes, yes, that sounds wonderful, Ani, please do stop by soon!” 

The door closes behind the Knight and Sheev turns to stride across the room towards the windows. This day has turned from routine to rather curious and intriguing now. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi has a Soulmark. 

The knowledge that Kenobi had a Mark was interesting, and Sheev had made a minor study of the phenomena in the intervening years since getting rid of his own Mark. 

Normally the matches are a simple matter, the two beings meet and they either recognize their Marks and work towards a relationship or they figure out their connection after already showing interest and attraction. Marks were by no means a singularly romantic connection, that was widely reported and known across the galaxy. 

No matter what, the Marks led to great devotion and loyalty to their matches. That was clear as anything from the experiments Sheev had put the matches under. 

The few couples and even a triad Sheev had found were gone by now, the limits of their bonds and affection thoroughly tested by Sheev on far off planets. With the help of the same materials Sheev had used in his own ritual, tearing apart the connection in the Force showed that while the Marks showed up in those who had no Force sensitivity to speak of, the connection was very much an aspect of the Force itself. 

Whoever was on the other side of his torn bond was lost to him now, no longer able to drag him and chain him to whatever view of the world and judgment they may possess. 

Kenobi’s Marked partner still existed though. Tearing Skywalker from his life and seducing him into the dark was proving fruitful, but the main obstacle had always been Kenobi. 

If Sheev was able to pull Kenobi from the ridiculous pedestal Skywalker still held him on, then all the better for his plans. 

Tearing apart Kenobi’s Soulmark would just be the icing on top of it all. 

* * *

  
  


Kidnapping a prominent Jedi Master and High General of the Republic is rather more intensive than what would normally be done for most other people. 

Sheev had not paid a large amount of attention to any individual Jedi, besides Anakin, and it was surprising the things he found out about the man who he was planning to kidnap. 

He cannot tip the balance in this war before all of his final pieces are set, and Kenobi, upon reflection, is a surprisingly important piece in the culmination of the Grand Plan. 

Dooku seems to have some vestige of attachment to the man. The Jedi High Council seems to value his opinion readily. Kenobi actively maintains a surprising amount of Senate contacts during the war, and of course, Kenobi’s immense influence over Skywalker himself. 

The man was charming, witty, diplomatic to a fault, and very skilled in the art of war. Sheev was no longer as surprised by the number of sentients who held this man in such high regard and found him so attractive. 

There was something curious about the man that interested Sheev the more he found out. 

Kenobi had killed his apprentice. That was excusable when the outcome was the death of Qui-Gon Jinn however, the loss of that damnable man had led to the fall of Dooku readily enough. 

Yet Kenobi, a newly knighted, grief-stricken boy, had managed to train Anakin and inspire such devotion it was still proving to be a thorn in Sheev’s side over a decade later. 

Anakin had been a munitions crate set to blow even at the age of nine. He grew into a tower of glass that needed to be shattered and ground into the dust before being built back in the Dark. 

Kenobi however was nothing like Anakin. No, someone had already gone to the trouble of smashing the venerated Master to bits and what was left was a foundation of cracks sealed by nothing but the iron will of Kenobi himself. 

Considering the information Sheev had managed to glean from records of the Jedi and his own intelligence efforts, it was not simply one person who had broken the man, but a lifetime of tragedy and strife had worn and scarred Kenobi over until he was the man and General he was today. 

Breaking him down further, tearing at the Mark, tearing at the very foundations of his soul would be fascinating. For someone so scarred and full of old aches to finally break, it was intoxicating. 

The potential the Dark whispered of was like a fine wine on Sheev’s tongue. 

First, however, he had to actually capture the man. 

“Tyranus." he purred into the holo-call, "There is to be a plot against the Chancellor soon, did you know?” 

  
  


* * *

Obi-Wan came back to consciousness slowly, feeling out through the blurry Force before broadcasting any signal he was now awake. 

But the Force was crooning lowly at him, a gentle lull that was absolutely drenched in Darkness. 

“Oh, don’t worry so much about where you are, dear Jedi,” came a hushed voice from his left. 

Obi-Wan’s thoughts crashed to a halt. 

Wherever he was, it was no longer Serenno. 

The last thing he could remember was the rooms they were given in Dooku’s Serenno Estate before they left for the Naboo festival. He was still in disguise as Rako Hardeen for Force’s sake. 

The Force heaved in warning as his heart started to speed up with adrenaline. 

“ _Hut’uun._ Show your face. I’m no Jedi.” Rako Hardeen. He was still Rako Hardeen, and maybe playing obtuse would get him more information from whoever had decided to grab him. 

“Tsk tsk, Master Kenobi. We can continue to pretend I don’t know who you are if you really wish, but I feel we would be better served with dispensing of the illusion like I've already dispensed of that ridiculous disguise.” 

The voice was low and indistinct in the darkness of wherever he was being held. There were binders holding his hands suspended together above his head, and his feet were flat on the ground, but the only light was pointing down from directly overhead and obscured any other defining features of the room. 

“Then you have me at a disadvantage. You managed to recognize me through the disguise, yet I cannot tell you apart from the darkness.” 

A laugh is the only answer he gets as he tries to probe through the murky Force surrounding him. Whoever is holding him must have used some kind of suppressor or a numbing agent. 

“Clever man, but you don’t quite know how clever you really are. The man hidden in the Dark. Oh, how very astute, Master Jedi.” 

“I’m flattered, really, but I’m afraid I cannot return your obvious affection as you see-” 

“Hush now,” cut in the slowly circling voice, “I know all about the vows of the Jedi. I even know about a curious Mark hidden somewhere on your body.” 

Obi-Wan sucked in a surprised breath as his shoulders tensed even more in their bonds. For someone to know of not only the Rako Hardeen mission but also the fact he had a Soulmark was narrowing it down to very few people in the entirety of the Republic. 

Coupled with the Darkness saturating the Force there was really only one person who this might be. 

“Darth Sidious. How lovely to meet you.” 

“I had wondered if the Count would try to warn you at some point. He’s such a good apprentice, it'll be a shame when he's killed.” The voice stopped right in front of him, still shrouded in the shadows. There was a faint Coruscanti accent to the words, like someone who had emigrated quite some time ago from somewhere else in the Core. 

“If he’s so nicely obedient then why dispose of him?” 

“I have a replacement lined up already, and it would be a shame to let all those years of grooming go to waste.” The voice was steady and ponderous, and Obi-Wan cursed his still fuzzy head for the hundredth time. He has the Sith Master in the same room and he cannot for the Force figure out who it is. 

“You might recognize my apprentice-to-be, he’s the one who originally told me of your Mark after all.” 

Obi-Wan froze as his blood turned to ice. There was only one person who would be of interest to the Sith Master who knew of his Mark. A snarl was working its way up from his chest as he bit out, 

“You will never have Anakin.” 

“I think you’ll find I already have him. He’s so enamored of the image he still holds of you, the indomitable General, the Perfect Jedi Master. I wonder how he feels after watching your funeral?” 

He was right. As much as Obi-Wan hoped Anakin understood and would let go, the loss of people close to him had always hit especially hard. Little Gods, even the Council had been relying on Anakin’s reaction to his supposed death to sell the charade as truth. 

“He will continue to fulfill his duty, and the Jedi will stop you.” 

No matter how much his mind doubted and hesitated, Obi-Wan could see no other possibility of moving forward. That was simply what Anakin and the Jedi must do. 

“If only your faith was really as unshakeable as you pretend it is. We both know you’re smarter than that though.” The voice was slowly getting clearer and moving closer. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite stop himself from swaying backward as far from the voice heading towards him as he could. 

“I never considered any of the Jedi individually until I started to plan this endeavor. You were always a thorn in my side, but you provided such a good example to grate against Skywalker’s aspirations. Then I looked closer.” 

Obi-Wan stared as Sidious stepped forward into the light, nothing visible under the hood besides a chin and a mouth that was locked in a smirk. 

“I saw a broken man, ground into the dust, scarred and battered, but triumphant nonetheless. Someone who sees the Darkness in the universe, has felt it twining through even the lightest of places. Oh, it will be a pleasure to break you, of that I’m sure.” 

The hood tilted up into the light but the only thing visible was the burning electrum eyes staring straight into his own. 

His breathing was fast, a mix of adrenaline and fear he frantically tried to release into rolling waves of darkened Force around him. 

He’s faced torture, he’d faced torture more times than was perhaps healthy for any one person to endure, but somehow nothing quite scared him like staring the Sith Master in the eyes as he told him he would break. 

Something must have shown on his face for the next words out of that still smirking mouth were mocking and anything but reassuring. 

“Don’t fret, my dear Jedi, this will be different from the other bouts of torture you’ve endured in the past. Soulmarks are such a curious phenomenon, wouldn’t you think? They appear in nearly every sentient species and there’s no known quirk or marker that determines who might develop a Mark. I’ve made quite a study of them during my free time. Those studies will come in handy when I rip yours from your soul.” 

Obi-Wan bared his teeth in a grin towards the smirking figure,  
  
“You want a Mark for yourself so badly you’re going to rip mine away? Once again, I’m flattered, but I have to decline. I’m afraid I haven’t yet met my partner and I’m holding out hope they rank better than a Sith Lord, you understand?” 

A thin lance of lightning arced from the raised hand of the figure and Obi-Wan held in a scream as his nerves lit on fire and the skin of his back burned. 

It let up what seemed like ages later, with Obi-Wan sagging in the binders and Sidious still standing motionless with his arm raised in front. 

“Curious,” said Sidious. 

“What? Not the sparks you were looking for there?” 

Even knowing it was coming the pain was nearly overwhelming. There was that strange deep burning on his back, but Obi-Wan attributed it to the stress of the position and the electricity running through his arms to spark off the binders above him. 

“Such a quick and clever mind you have. Despite the rumors of your charm, there is much to be desired in my opinion, Master Jedi.” 

Obi-Wan’s breathing was ragged and rasping now, the lingering sparks and burn of skin distracting him just enough that he was surprised by the hand that grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to meet burning gold. 

“You know I had a Mark once as well. The most curious brand that I ripped out of my own soul. It was excruciating, and the scars never fully leave your soul. I wonder if that’s what it would take to shatter your sharp mind, pain that radiates and rips your soul apart.” 

Obi-Wan had stopped breathing partway through the little speech, because the hood had shifted and finally the identity of Darth Sidious was revealed. 

“Chancellor Palpatine.” 

What little hope Obi-Wan had retained from his earlier defense of Anakin and the Jedi evaporated with the last syllable of the name. Palpatine was the head of the Republic. Palpatine was the shadow at the head of the Separatists. Palpatine was the mentor and father figure Anakin turned to and trusted. There was no going back from this revelation and there was no hope for foiling whatever grand sith plan if he was content to reveal himself now. 

“Yes, my dear Jedi, yes.” Palpatine shifted the hood back further, smiling at him and finally releasing his chin to drop before he tilted his head back up to stare at the Sith Master who doomed them all. 

“It has been fun, playing both sides of the war and placing all of these convenient pieces where I want them. You were always a bit of a variable there, but soon that will no longer matter.” 

With that Sidious flicked his hand and the front of his shirt ripped down the chest. A thin line of blood welled across his upper chest, but Palpatine was already stepping around him. 

“I do wonder what this Mark of yours will look like, a Mandalorian Lily perhaps?”

A further sharp pain radiated from his back as Palpatine continued to circle him,

“Or perhaps it would be-” 

Obi-Wan tilted his head, wary at the sudden stop of Palpatine’s taunt. 

The room was silent except for his ragged breathing and the whisper of his tattered shirt hanging down, but the Force almost seemed to be holding its breath waiting for the continuation of Palpatine’s words. 

Getting his breathing under control and bracing for the inevitable lighting Obi-Wan turned his head as much as he could manage between his suspended arms, 

“It’s strange isn’t it? The red. I’ve asked, but there doesn’t seem to be any known species with red Marks.” 

Palpatine was still staring at the Mark with a furrowed brow and Obi-Wan had just enough of a view to see the wrinkle between his eyes smooth out as Palpatine broke out into a blinding grin. 

The laugh that came out was chilling, and Obi-Wan no longer had any clue what was happening as the Force seemed to shiver then heave and build. 

A brush of fingers against the star on his upper back jolted Obi-Wan out of his musing, and Palpatine stepped closer while tracing the lines making up the rest of his Mark. 

“Oh, my dear, wouldn’t you know, I know exactly why your Mark is red.” 

Palpatine’s voice was low, more a purr than anything had been previously and he leaned in until his breath was puffing on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. 

“After all, I had the same Mark.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
